Reach
by Wraffie
Summary: Death has a way of changing the way you think, even if you're not the one dying. Loki and Heimdall both realize their feelings for one another, so how will they react when they meet up once more? HeimuLoki


A/N: Yayyy, Matantei Loki Ragnarok~ This 'fic is based off the anime, as that is all I've seen, so if things differ from the manga, that is why. I've been meaning to read the manga though, so I'll get on that, and hopefully that'll help me play these darlings better.

I don't own these charries, I just love it when they're paired together. ;D

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Reach

The peaceful, drowsy curtain sleep provided suddenly rose without a warning, and Loki woke, sending a jolt through his tense body.

Flashes from the nightmare he had just resurfaced from reeled across his mind as his wide eyes stared up at the dark ceiling.

_No,_ Loki thought mournfully, _not a nightmare, but a memory._

The god sighed quietly as he sat up, pressing his palms into his tired eyes before getting onto his feet.

He couldn't sleep, not with that dream so fresh in his mind.

"Punyaaaaan…" Sighed a sleeping Ecchan, immune to the silent events occurring beside him.

It was still the middle of the night, and the world was black and quiet. This environment was the perfect canvas for the nightmare's images, and despite Loki's resistance they replayed in his mind.

_Tears spilled down Heimdall's blank face, slipping out in a constant stream from his unseeing right eye. A gloved palm reached forward toward Loki as the body it was attached to slowly started to fall backwards. He looked so helpless, so deeply defeated. He had lost everything. His only loyal friend had been killed by his own hand, and now the eye he had risked everything for was useless to him._

_Turquoise eyes widened in response to the sight._

_"Heimdall!" Loki screamed, lunging toward the falling god and reaching out for his outstretched hand. He was so close, inches away. Loki would grab the god and save him. Fix everything. Make it better. Somehow, he would find a way. He just needed to reach a little farther…_

_But at the last moment, with a humourless smirk, Heimdall slapped Loki's redeeming hand away, and fell into the dark._

"_HEIMDALL!"_

These scenes haunted Loki as he gazed sadly out the window up at the moon. Why couldn't he have been a little quicker? Then he could have saved Heimdall, whether or not he wanted to be saved.

The guilt clutched at his throat, and Loki was filled with a childish longing to be held. He scoffed quietly at the idea, wrapping his arms around himself. Who could hold him? He imagined Yamino's reaction if he woke him in the middle of the night, demanding a hug.

Loki's eyes shut slowly and he smiled slightly. Heimdall could hold him…

He shook his head, his eyes flying open wider then before.

_What? No. What am I thinking? He's dead and… It would never be possible._

But the more he tried to push the thought away the more it stuck in his head and appealed to him.

Mayura, Freya, Skuld. He cared deeply for each of them, but not the same way they felt about him. Not romantically. They were like children. Adorable and sweet, but immature.

Not like Heimdall. Nothing like _him._

_Tears in Heimdall's eyes as he reached out for Loki._

Loki wrapped his arms tighter around his body as the thought of Heimdall made his heart skip a beat, and his chest tightened with guilt and misery.

_Reaching desperately back toward his falling love._

The night emboldened him, and he didn't resist as thoughts of Heimdall filled his sleepy mind. In the middle of the night, embraced by the mysterious dark, no one would have to know.

Oh, Heimdall. His thick purple hair, his big red eye, his low, thoughtful voice…

But…why did it have to be that every time that beautiful eye spied him, it would be filled with such animosity? And that Heimdall's voice would become so hateful and brooding? Odin really had done a good job of manipulating Heimdall, Loki thought resentfully.

Loki's face fell. Even if he were alive, Heimdall would never love him back.

_Reaching for Heimdall, but having his hand rejected at the final moment._

Loki's legs mechanically brought him back to the bed, and he crumpled onto the pillow. He didn't know what hurt more. The pain of knowing Heimdall was dead, or the pain of knowing that even if he lived, he would never love him.

Exhausted and numb, Loki slipped back into unconsciousness, where he was tormented by dreams of chasing a striking figure with red eyes and purple hair, who was always just beyond his reach.

*******

A single red eye indifferently traced the words on the leather-bound pages before them, expressionlessly processing the information provided.

Heimdall suddenly heaved a sigh, shutting the book he had just completed and rolling his shoulders back. The story stuck in his head for a moment. All the misfortunes and pain of its characters distracted him from any thoughts of his own.

But the next second, the images spilled from his head to leave nothing but his own experiences. He pretended his life was another book, mentally turning it over to read the synopsis. He scanned it indifferently, nothing but a third party in his own mind.

Heimdall remembered dying, falling into the Underworld before Loki's eyes.

He cringed internally, remembering the horror in Loki's voice as he called out to him, already sounding far away. No, no, this was a book. No emotion. No hurt.

Regaining control, Heimdall remembered Hel, bringing him back from the Underworld. Giving him a second chance he didn't want.

He was helping her now, creating illusions for her so she could eventually confront her father, Loki.

Loki. Loki, Loki, Loki. It was always him, it seemed. Constantly at the center of happenings, even when he was banished.

Hel was being manipulated by Odin, much as Heimdall himself had been. He saw that now. But he wouldn't tell Hel. She wouldn't listen, he knew. Heimdall himself had been too far gone to listen to anyone when Odin had tricked him. But death, even temporary, had a way of rewiring your mind.

One thing was for certain, Odin would pay for manipulating so many of the gods.

Heimdall was glad that his eyes had been opened, and his bloodlust for Loki had died down. The thought of killing Loki was repulsive to him. It had always been. But jealousy and betrayal had twisted his mind into believing otherwise.

The god turned his head to the side, gazing out the window up at the moon. It was full tonight, and bright enough to read by.

Heimdall thought back through the pages of his mind-book, recalling the times when he had been in the World of the gods. He had still had his right eye, and he could see everything. He was ever-vigilant, forever watchful. He was the perfect sentry. He never slept, never even rested. His was a lonely existence, but he was fine with that. How could he long for companionship when it was something he had never experienced?

Heimdall had watched Loki often, knowing that he would one day attempt to enter Asgard, and then they would kill each other. He was very conscious of this fact. Had always accepted it dispassionately, without really fearing death.

Watching Loki had been nothing but function at first. But how handsome Loki had looked. So suave, so graceful. He could socialize easily, and always seemed to have something witty on his tongue. Heimdall began to truly feel the loneliness whenever Loki came into his sights. Heimdall had become deeply infatuated with one so very different from him, who appeared to him…perfect. But then Loki had stolen his right eye away. He had accomplished it so easily, too. Much too easily, considering he was supposed to be the ever-vigilant Watchman. Heimdall had sworn vengeance. Decided that he would kill Loki and get his eye back. Because he had loved Loki, but the other god had betrayed him.

Perhaps he hadn't even fallen for Odin's trick. Maybe Heimdall had simply known that he needed to hate Loki, and so he had convinced himself that he had a reason not to love him. So that when Ragnarok finally rolled around, he would not hesitate to kill, and be killed himself. Just as it should be. Just as it had to be.

But when Heimdall had died, the armour of hate had been peeled off like dead skin. And he started loving Loki all over again.

Despite the sad, lonely thoughts running through his mind, Heimdall's face remained expressionless and blank. A single half-lidded red eye followed Hel as she suddenly entered the room, betraying none of the inner turmoil and pensiveness he felt. He watched as she picked a book off a nearby bookshelf and left again, feeling an unexpected sharp wave of empathy toward her. She had been alone, too. She loved Loki as a father, and felt rejected by him as well.

Heimdall's expression broke into a dark, humourless grin. Loki had really hurt a lot of people who loved him.

The god breathed a sigh as he lifted himself from his armchair and made for the door to outside. As the cool night air hit him, the god stared up at the sky, his hands in his pockets as he slouched through the streets. He felt his hawk stirring in his mind, sensed as it took off with a shriek and soared toward him. It was still a distance away, but Heimdall smiled sincerely at the thought of his friend. Heimdall wasn't too pleased with Hel for bringing him back from the Underworld, but he was eternally grateful to her for fixing his mistake and returning his hawk to life. That was why he was helping her. He couldn't care less about himself. The foolish, blind sentry who let the wool be pulled over his eyes. But his hawk shouldn't have had to pay for his mistakes.

Heimdall settled onto a park bench and gazed lazily upward, waiting patiently for his friend to arrive.

***

For the second time that night, Loki awoke with a start, however, this time it was when the shriek of a hawk reached his ears.

_Heimdall!_ Barely awake, the trickster god stumbled toward the window where he could see a large bird's shadow fell across the moon. Loki blinked himself awake and shook his head. Heimdall? No. He was dead.

But something wasn't quite right. Hawks didn't fly at night. And this was one was uncharacteristically large. Loki was reminded of Heimdall's hawk, but he had watched that one die right before Heimdall himself. How horrified and distraught Heimdall had become when that hawk that died…

Another hawk shriek made Loki chew his lip in uncertainty.

This was stupid! That hawk had nothing to do with Heimdall! What, was he going to run out the door in the middle of the night after a bird? Loki's logic argued with his hope. The senseless hope, most likely inspired by how groggy Loki remained, won out. Making up his mind, the god raced down the stairs, putting on a pair of shoes before running out the door. He slipped through the darkened streets, weaved through alleyways and in-between houses, all to keep up with the gliding bird-of-prey. He couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, doing this. How long would he follow the bird? Until it floated halfway across the city? Left it altogether? Or until he passed out in the middle of the street from exhaustion?

But he was out already, wasn't he? The logic had lost, and Loki was only letting the little voice play to humour the thing. Because there was still a chance that the hawk had something to do with Heimdall, the god of strategy, the hawk-eyed Watchman. The one Loki loved.

The large bird's shadow led him to the park, where it circled before coming to earth. The trickster god sprinted after, pausing and slowing as he saw the elegant creature dipping lower, narrowing his eyes to make out what it had spotted.

Loki watched in shock as the majestic bird landed on a figure's gloved arm, deep turquoise eyes widening.

The boy was seated comfortably on a park bench. One of his legs was crossed across his knee, and the single eye visible beneath thick purple hair, which Loki knew was a vivid crimson, was settled on the bird of prey that had just landed. The hawk gave a few cries, muted compared to its usual shrieks, and fanned its massive wings slightly.

Loki couldn't believe it. The joy of seeing Heimdall made his head swim and his heart leap. He ran toward Heimdall, a huge smile on his face.

But soon Loki remembered himself, and he slowed to a walk. The smile vanished, and Loki was glad for the fact that Heimdall wasn't looking at him, and he had most likely missed the expression.

Heimdall was closer now, and his expression was visible finally when he looked from his hawk to Loki. Heimdall was glaring at him, his eyebrows curved inward angrily; a stark contrast to the somber serenity he displayed looking at his hawk. But the look was half-hearted and almost gentle when comparing to the usual hatred Heimdall displayed when faced with Loki. They were enemies who had nothing to fight about anymore. The lies had been revealed and the true enemy, namely Odin, had made himself known.

The anger. So very familiar on the face of the other. But now, to Loki, it held a cold new message. It seemed to Loki that Heimdall was reminding him of his failure to save him from dying. The trickster's stomach felt cold and his chest tightened at the sudden guilt. But tricksters had to be good liars, and Loki's pleasantly surprised pokerface kept firmly in place.

However, the lack of usual anger gave the surprise Heimdall felt at Loki's sudden appearance more of a hold on his face.

Slow and sullen, Loki approached, barely able to believe what was going on. It was probably another nightmare. It would soon go horribly wrong, and Loki would wake up yet again. Unless he was in fact, awake. Then that meant that this had to be some sort of illusion or trick. Loki's gaze looked over Heimdall thoroughly as he searched for any visual discrepancy between this Heimdall and the real one, who's appearance he knew all too well. Loki decided that Heimdall looked exactly as he had before he had died. It was rather eerie, as a matter of fact. Loki slowed to a halt a few feet away from the revived god, staring. The only thing he could state was the obvious.

"Heimdall…You're alive." Loki muttered quietly as he frantically wondered whether this was possible.

Heimdall was silent. He stared at Loki, the surprise and anger slowly fading from his face to be replaced with a cool, unreadable scowl.

Loki was desperate to know that what he was seeing wasn't just some hallucination brought on by lack of sleep.

"I suggest you say something before I decide you're just an illusion." He stated, his voice breaking despite the level words. Desperation slipped through the holes Loki's emotions had poked through his pokerface.

Still, Heimdall said nothing, but he stood up to face Loki. His hawk seemed to sense the tension and abruptly took off with a flap of its powerful wings and shrieked, buffeting them both with wind and a wave of sound.

With both of his arms now free of any burden, Heimdall's hands slowly slid into his pockets, eyes flicking up to meet Loki's. The trickster felt his stomach flip when their eyes locked and at how close the other was. He couldn't help but notice how powerful Heimdall's gaze was, even when he appeared calm. It was almost nonchalant, but there was so much emotion and intelligence stirring behind it. Heimdall was always so _focused._ Nothing like the wayward, thoughtless females who always seemed to be interested in Loki. Heimdall was pensive and quiet. When he spoke, he had something to say. He never spoke merely to hear the sound of his own voice.

"What are you doing here, Loki?" Contempt echoed in both syllables of the name while the rest of the sentence was spoken in sighing disinterest. Even though Heimdall knew the truth about his eye, he still wasn't Loki's best friend. Even though he remembered that he loved him. Too much had happened for everything to simply be disregarded.

It was like there was a wall between them. Both felt it, and knew that words were hopeless. They both knew what had happened, and both realized that words would not be able to change a thing.

Loki's gaze slowly fell, but not all the way to the ground. He found himself looking at one of Heimdall's gloved hands. The other god had pulled both out of his pockets and set them on his hips. Loki recalled how _close _he had been to reaching that hand when Heimdall had been falling. How badly he had wished since then that he had managed to reach it. And now, here Heimdall was, but yet nothing had really changed between them. It was ridiculous, and Loki was not about to let Heimdall go again! The trickster thrust out his hand, enclosing Heimdall's gloved palm. Heimdall's eyes went wide with shock, then suddenly harsh as if he were expecting an attack. Loki disregarded this as he pulled the red-eyed god into him and wrapped his arms tightly around his chest. Heimdall was motionless and stiff with shock, however, after a moment he seemed to relax, and he gingerly and with a great deal of uncertainty, returned the embrace. Loki loosened his hold after a moment and felt it as Heimdall mirrored the action, obviously very inexperienced with any sort of physical contact. This brought a warm, slightly mischievous smile to Loki's lips which he showed Heimdall when he pulled away far enough to look him in the face. The red-eyed god was confused. Heimdall's usual lack of expression made the confusion shine especially bright, and Loki couldn't help but find it endearing. He chuckled delicately as he lifted a finger and ran it lightly along Heimdall's jawline before moving in, planting a gentle kiss on Heimdall's slightly parted lips.

Turquoise eyes slowly shut as Loki's lips moved gently against Heimdall's, trying to coax some sort of response out of their counterparts.

Heimdall hadn't quite gotten over the shock of being so suddenly pulled in. He was the god of strategy, but how was he supposed to react to… To having his long-time desire fulfilled, to having someone so close, to having been _kissed_! His mind was reeling, however, there was no ignoring nor denying how very enjoyable it was. A single red eye finally shut and the lips below them responded to Loki at last.

But so very soon, it was over. Once more it was the one that initiated the contact that ended it. Loki took a small step back, his hand trailing down Heimdall's arm as their lips split apart and taking Heimdall's gloved hand.

"That was for the last time I saw you. When I couldn't save you. There'll be no knocking my hand away this time," explained Loki quietly, through a slight smile, his tone lighthearted however laced with seriousness. The memories of that day hit him once more and as if to accentuate his words, Loki's eyebrows came down over his eyes and he squeezed Heimdall's hand tighter before very, very gingerly and carefully, letting it go.

Heimdall stared, his eyes half-lidded once more, and his face expressionless. He looked down at his now-free hand and then back to Loki. He understood how desperate Loki had been to save him. How his failure must have eaten at him all this time, for Loki to react in such away at his appearance. It went past seeing someone thought to be dead come back to life. He realized that now. Heimdall's lips still tingled pleasantly after Loki's kiss, urging him to pull him back in for another taste.

Suddenly, Heimdall's surprised expression became cold once more. He was the god of strategy, and he had not forgotten that despite the recent…unexpected events. While he was the god of strategy, Loki was the trickster. The one he would kill, and who would kill him, upon Ragnarok. This also Heimdall had not forgotten.

It would be…bad strategy to let this continue. To let it go farther. Emotional attachment to someone he knew he would kill would only make his eventual task more painful.

But…Heimdall _wanted_ this to go farther! He always had! All those things he had wanted to do with Loki…the chance had come, and he was looking to throw it away. Perhaps something flashed in his expression here, because Loki's changed as if in response to these thoughts.

Loki's eyes went wide as if anticipating rejection, his lips separating and forming a questioning 'o' before both mouth and eyes shut. The former curved gently upwards and eyes opened half-way, Loki nodding his head. He understood, of course. He could practically read Heimdall's thoughts. Ragnarok. The time that weighed on the minds of every god throughout the worlds. They knew their deaths were coming, knew the exact circumstances to look out for, and exactly who would kill them.

It was ironic. No, it was sickeningly unfair. The fact that Loki was in love with someone he knew he would kill, and by who's hand he would die. A dark, hateful emotion bubbled up in Loki's chest, winding its venomous strings around his heart and squeezing. Tensing his stomach, green eyes followed Heimdall as he took a few steps backwards, staring at Loki. That same emotion, that hurt, betrayed look he had displayed earlier, was still there. Heimdall appeared incapable of removing it.

The fact was almost flattering. Heimdall, the god of strategy. The one who always had a plan, always held himself in check, was so hurt at the thought of leaving Loki behind, he had lost his beloved control.

"Heimdall…" Loki addressed his departing love and watched as the other paused and looked back over his shoulder. "So you know the truth now. This changes things…doesn't it?" Cryptic words were spoken softly, thoughtfully, Loki's head tilting somewhat to the side. Heimdall would understand. Of course he would. Loki wasn't talking about the truth about Heimdall's eye. It was the truth of his feelings. Loki needed to know that Heimdall felt the same. Somehow he felt it had to be spoken aloud for it to be true.

A glint of recognition entered Heimdall's eye at the question and he turned fully around to face Loki once more.

"Yes. Nothing can be as it was." Heimdall replied curtly before he hung his head, single eye shutting. "And I can't say I mind the change."

With those final words Heimdall looked up and offered Loki something that may have been a smile before his face and the rest of his body was obstructed by a streaming mass of falcon feathers that had suddenly appeared to cocoon the boy. Loki watched in silence as the feathers that held his Heimdall rose up and flowed into the distance, taking a moment to feel happy and elated. Then, however, the feeling was crushed back down and replaced with longing. Heimdall felt the same, but there would be no happy ending. They both knew the truth, could be happy in that. But they could never be happy together.

The sullen trickster turned his back and began to walk away, finally letting the misery and sadness he felt show in the tears that slid down his cheeks, emboldened by the secretive dark.

_But Heimdall…_Loki thought with a measure of joy and a thin smile, _I reached you at last._

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A/N: Fssssssh, finally. It's about time I get this old 'fic up and posted. It's been forever since I started it, and since I've seen the show, so their personalities aren't quite fresh in my mind. Ah well, I'll have to rewatch this amazing show so I can make my HeimuLoki fanfics better~

Reviews and criticism, particularly referring to their personalities, would be very much appreciated. C: _  
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